A Severing of Ties Part One
by suppi-kero-chans
Summary: Voldemort has another evil plot, but this time he's not out to kill the Boy Who Lived...he wants to recruit him, and he knows the perfect Potions Master for the job. :: time travel : mean!Dudley : complete :: :: PART TWO ADDED ::
1. The Serpent in the Lion's Den

My tribute to Michelle, who says I'm delusional because I still cling to the hope that my darling Severus is really on the right side of the war on Voldemort. My answer: "If Snape is evil, Harry is, too."

I don't know when this happens... Sometime right before sixth year, I guess. After Wormtail starts living with Severus. It's AU anyway...

Disclaimers: own nothing, getting nothing. All hail JKR!

R&R, if you'd be so kind. Thankies.

* * *

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"They hurt him?"

"Yes."

"They starved him, and left him to be beaten and tormented by his own cousin?" The cold voice raised slightly. Was he mad...or excited?

"Y-yes."

"He hates them, doesn't he? Did he ever say that? That he hates them?"

"He made it very clear that he does not like them. He has been responsible for causing trouble to them. Sending snakes after his cousin. Blowing up his aunt until she nearly died from exploding."

"So he has shown violent tendencies towards them."

Wormtail cringed back slightly at the sudden fire that glowed in Voldemort's red eyes. He looked either immensely angry, or overly pleased, and Wormtail didn't trust himself to pick out which it was. "I heard many things about the Dursleys while I stayed with the Weasley boy."

Voldemort licked his lips slowly, his expression one of distant thought. He suddenly snapped back to the present. "When you return home, call Severus to me. I need to speak with him about a potion." As he spoke, a cruel smile curved the man's lips. "And do be quick about it."

"Yes, my Lord." Scurrying out of Voldemort's chambers as quickly as he could, grateful at escaping punishment, Wormtail nearly tripped on the hearth in his attempt to get into the floo and back to Snape. In a rush if green flames, he felt himself spinning almost out of control. Spotting Snape's kitchen, he stopped himself, stepping out of the Network into the dull, cobweb- strewn room.

"Snape?" Darting through the rooms that Snape frequented, his heavy footfalls thudding in the still, stale air, Wormtail couldn't help feeling like he'd just done something terrible. He felt exactly as he had right after giving up the whereabouts of James and Lily so many years ago. Also like back then, he felt slightly justified in that he had little choice. When the Dark Lord asked a question, he wanted an answer, and he wanted the truth...

"Snape?"

A dark voice suddenly filled the entire downstairs of the house. "Will you quit that infernal racket!"

Creeping towards Snape's lab, Wormtail stuck his head around the doorframe timidly. "It's the Dark Lord. He wants to see you."

Snape, who was slowly stirring a large cauldron full of a blue liquid emitting near-toxic fumes, looked up only briefly at the announcement. "Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty." His stopped his smooth motions and rested the dripping stirring stick on the potion-stained table. He turned cold eyes on the other man. "If you ever come rampaging through my house while I am working again, I will cut you up and use you for potion ingredients. Am I clear?"

Wormtail flinched. "As crystal."

With one, last, withering glare, Snape moved around the table, pulling off his work robes as he went. "Did he say what he wanted to see me about?" he asked conversationally, taking down his clean, black robes from a hook by the door.

"Just a potion. He wasn't specific."

As he finished hooking the clasp as his throat, Snape snarled, "If that cauldron has been touched when I return, you will have the honor of being the first to taste its contents."

"Wh-what is it?"

Snape smirked. "A Blood-Boiling Concoction."

Wormtail shuttered, stepping out of Snape's way. "I'd never go in your lab without your permission, Severus. Let alone bother one of your potions. You know that."

Snape's eyes narrowed, but he didn't reply as he swept towards the door.

Left alone once again, Wormtail wandered to the kitchen to see if there was anything edible in the cupboards, though he doubted it. It seemed to him that Snape never ate. Or at least, he never bought food...

* * *

Severus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "A time travel potion, my Lord? Surely you realize the implications. You could damage the entire effect your rise has had--"

"I know exactly what effect my tampering will bring about, Severus," Voldemort interrupted, his voice low and raspy with barely-suppressed anticipation. "I have known for some time. Only now has it been made clear to me that this is the moment to execute my plan."

Bowing slightly, Severus said, "Of course, my Lord."

"I want it finished as soon as possible."

"Shall I leak any of this information to the Order?"

"Yes. Do. And while you're at it, tell them I suspect you of being slightly less than your impeccably loyal self." Voldemort was smiling.

"Of course you know my loyalties have never, and will never--"

"Stop groveling, Severus. I know you better than you know yourself." Standing up, Voldemort strode to the half-boarded window and looked out at the mist that was gathering in the valley below. "You are the only one I trust. The only one who has never wavered."

"I dare say Bellatrix would be hurt by your accusations."

ignoring the comment, Voldemort continued, "You will be the undoing of the Order, Severus. Now go. Tell Dumbledore I am sending several Death Eaters into the past to destroy the Boy Who Lived."

His skepticism returning, Severus asked, "Are you really, my Lord?"

"Do you dare question my orders?"

"No, my Lord. I'm merely registering my confusion. Why would Dumbledore trust information you'd pass to a Death Eater whom you believe to be a spy?"

At this, Voldemort turned back to Severus, a broad smile stretching his pale features. "He doesn't have to trust the information. Just give it to him."

Not understanding his orders any more than he did to begin with, Severus bowed, then left the room.

Surely the Dark Lord was not really planning to destroy Potter, he mused. If Harry was killed before Voldemort's down fall, the prophecy would still be in effect, only it would be Longbottom who was chasing him. If he did it after that fateful night, Voldemort wouldn't have had a second rise, as it was Potter's discovery of Wormtail that led to his return to power. Severus's eyes narrowed in thought as he stepped into the fireplace.

There was more to the plan. There was always more to the plan...

* * *

Dumbledore peered at the group that gathered before him with troubled eyes. "You are certain?"

"Yes. He asked for a time travel potion. He didn't say anything outright, but he did hint that it would be used to send several Death Eaters back in time to destroy Potter. He did not specify a time frame for their destination."

Nodding sadly, Dumbledore said, "Thank you for your report. Now, if there is no more business, it seems to be getting rather late."

The rest of the Order members stood up, a small murmur of hushed conversation breaking out among them as they moved towards the fireplace. Molly Weasley held the pot of Floo powder for each member to take a pinch. Last besides herself, was Severus, who had remained sitting in his chair across from Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Albus. Severus," she said with a tense smile, before taking her own pinch and stepping into the green flames. "The Burrow." And she was gone.

"Was there something else you wanted to discuss with me, Severus?"

"Yes. I felt it was rather too disquieting to share with everyone before consulting you."

Dumbledore nodded again, showing his understanding.

Severus shifted in his seat. "It seems the Dark Lord is becoming concerned with the lack of success of some of his plans. He feels certain there is a spy in his Death Eaters, and I think he is leaning towards believing it to be me."

Dumbledore's tired eyes were suddenly alert, wary. "What has led you to believe this?"

"Nothing more than hints. Whispers of suggestion during meetings. Odd looks. I fear that my position, if it is not already, may become compromised."

"Do you feel this information about time traveling Death Eaters is accurate?"

"He is having me make the potion. For whatever reason--whether it involve a young Potter, or not--time travel is a part in his next plan."

Dumbledore took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Asking you to do anything to sabotage this would point expressly to your disloyalty, as you are the only one who will have access to that potion until you hand it to Voldemort. Am I incorrect in my thinking?"

"No, sir."

"I will not put your life in more danger, then, by asking you to do anything other than what Voldemort has ordered you to. But please, listen for anything that might help. A time frame. A solid plan. Something we can form a counter attack against."

"Are you concerned about carrying this battle through time?"

"I am concerned about your welfare. And Harry's."

"Don't worry over me." Severus's lips corked slightly at the corners. "I have been doing just fine for myself for a good number of years now. And as for Potter. Well, let's just say he's too annoying to be killed by a plan so simple as to be murdered in the past. And he is alive and well now, at any rate. That should bode well for him."

There was an uncharacteristic darkness in Dumbledore's eyes as he looked at Severus. "Yes. You are, I'm sure, correct. But it is late, and we both have responsibilities to see to in the morning. Good night, Severus."

"Good night, Headmaster."

Severus left the office, walking the dark corridors of Hogwarts along a familiar path to his classroom. The Dark Lord had made it very clear that the sooner the potion was brewed, the better off they would be.

After lighting a fire under a small cauldron, Severus began to absent-mindedly pick through his ingredient stores, pulling bottles and jars off the shelves, seemingly at random.

* * *

"Your potion, my Lord," Severus presented, setting the small, sealed vial of green liquid on the table beside Voldemort's chair. "And a reversal draught." He set a second, red vial beside the first.

Voldemort picked up the two vials, peering at their contents with gleeful malice. "Excellent. You have outdone yourself. Now for your orders."

"Orders, my Lord?"

"Yes. You will travel into the past. By yourself. While you are there, you will fine Harry Potter."

"I feel I must advise, once again, that killing him, at any point of his life, will jeopardize--"

"You will not kill him, Severus. You will befriend him. You will take the poor, abused, little boy under your caring wing, and guide him."

Severus stood in silence, waiting for a further explanation.

"I trust you will not know this, but Wormtail, who has been in a very advantageous position to gain information on the boy, has informed me that he was severely mistreated by those muggles--" He spat the word like poison. "--who raised him. He had no one. No friends. No other relatives. Nothing but his own lonely mind and the hell the Dursleys turned it into for him."

Voldemort set the two vials back on the table. His red eyes bore into Severus, as if seeing through his flesh into his very soul. "Now what do you suppose would happen if a poor, hurt, little waif were to find a friend? Not only a friend, but a confidant. A--" Smirk. "-- _loving_ mentor who could teach him to be strong. Who could promise, and deliver, a life safe from the pain and anguish of his evil guardians--even if that life only existed in a few, short moments of spare time?"

"I suppose," Severus said slowly, thinking back to his own friendship with Lucius Malfoy, "he would be grateful."

"To say the least." Voldemort took the time travel potion and held it out to Severus. "Go to him. He needs you. Teach him. Raise him as you would your very own. But do nothing to arouse suspicion. When he turns eleven, he must arrive at Hogwarts with nothing in him that he would not have had otherwise, except a hidden thirst for power. A need to prove himself. A need for revenge, and an understanding that it can be his if he follows the right paths. And the desire to go to any lengths to find those paths. Tell him nothing of magic. Nothing solid, anyway."

His hand shaking slightly at the implication of what he was about to do, Severus took the vial of potion. If he slipped up, even the tiniest bit...

"You'll need a glamour, of course. We can't have him recognizing you when he gets to Hogwarts."

"I can do that myself, when I get there."

Voldemort nodded slightly, then said, "Mold him, Severus. Make him your own. Make him mine. When you return, we will go and fetch our boy."

"What should I do? Move in down the street from him?"

"Do what you do best, Severus. Be his teacher." Voldemort gestured to two bags that were laying beside the hearth. "Everything you need is right over there. Clothes, documents. I trust you can secure living quarters and a job at the boy's school on your own?"

"Of course I can."

"Good. Go now. There is no time to spare." His smile widening, Voldemort said, "Turn him into a Slytherin."

Severus walked over to the bags. As he passed the table, he tucked the reversal draught in his pocket. Once he had his things, he uncorked the vial and held it to his lips.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white light and a billow of red smoke from the farthest corner of the room. Voldemort turned toward the spectacle with a smile.

Severus watched for a moment as he, himself stepped out of the smoke. At least I know I survive this episode, he mused, then threw his head back, swallowing the entire contents of the green vial. The future-Severus gave Severus a dark, meaningful look, then the room disappeared in a blinding flash...

TBC


	2. Replacing Mrs Donaldson

Disclaimer: standard--see chapter one.

* * *

"Have you seen the new teacher?"

"Which one?"

"The one to replace Mrs. Donaldson."

"Not yet."

"It's terrible what happened to Mrs. Donaldson, it's it? A heart attack. And she wasn't very old."

Harry wove his way around the slow-walking groups of gossipers. Personally, he wasn't too upset that they wouldn't be having Mrs. Donaldson for a teacher any longer. That didn't mean he'd wanted her to die, of course... Shaking the terrible thought away, he doubled his pace. He'd left for school well before Dudley, and he hoped to be in his class before he ran into any of his cousin's gang.

Harry jogged up the steps to the school and pushed the large door open. It was only a couple weeks into his fifth grade year, but the smell of new books and dormant hallways had already left the building. Replacing it was the stench of cafeteria food and the musty odor of mildew from the gym and changing rooms.

Slipping into the empty classroom unnoticed, Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief as he sank into his seat. Now just as long as the teacher got to class before Dudley and Piers...

Harry hated being in the same class as his cousin. It didn't happen very often, but, as there was only one fifth grade class, it couldn't be helped. Fortunately, he didn't have to sit anywhere near Dudley. By virtue of last names, they were at opposite ends of the room. That didn't stop Piers Polkiss from kicking the back of Harry's chair and poking him in the head with his pencil, but it was better than what Dudley would have done with the same vantage point.

Harry took out his homework--which he hadn't managed to finish the night before due to extra chores--and passed the time working over several difficult math problems.

As the minutes ticked by on the clock, and students trickled into the room, Harry felt himself grow more and more nervous. Mrs. Donaldson might have been a nasty old bat, and she might have been the most irrationally mean teacher at the school, but at least she always got to the room early enough to keep Dudley and his friends from bothering Harry before class started. This new teacher was being very worrying, and she wasn't even there yet!

Suddenly, a robust voice began to sing from the doorway, "Potty, oh, Potty! We all know he's dotty!"

Piers, who was following close behind Dudley, laughed. "Mad as a Potter, all right," he chuckled.

Not even bothering to drop off his bag by his own seat, Dudley made a bee-line for Harry. "What happened this morning, Harry? I thought we were going to walk to school together."

"Had to get in early to do my homework," Harry mumbled, trying to stuff his homework into his desk.

Piers snatched the paper out of Harry's hand. "I think you got that one wrong, Potter," he sneered, peering at the scratchy writing. "And that one, too. I think you got them all wrong, actually." He tore the paper in half, in quarters, then in several pieces, and dropped them on Harry's desk.

Dudley laughed stupidly as the starting bell rang. Lumbering carelessly, he walked over to his seat. It took a moment to squeeze himself behind his desk, but just as he did so, the classroom door opened and the headmaster walked in looking very harassed. There was a tall man with dark hair and a scowl following him.

"Everyone, everyone! Settle down. This is Mr. Williams. He will be taking over for Mrs. Donaldson."

Still lamenting his homework, Harry barely registered anything but the man's name, when he looked up and saw two heavy, piercing eyes staring directly at him. Startled, Harry knocked his pencil case onto the floor with a loud clatter.

The headmaster shot Harry warning glare.

The class tittered, looking at Harry and whispering. Piers gawfed.

When the headmaster had returned to his introduction, Piers took the moment of inattention to kick the back of Harry's seat. The chair legs screeched across the floor, and Harry made a slight gasping sound when the edge of the desk rammed suddenly into his gut, once again drawing the headmaster's glare and enticing giggles out of the class.

"S-sorry, sir," Harry stammered.

"Well, Mr. Williams, I shall leave them to you."

Mr. Williams nodded slightly as the headmaster left the room, then turned dark, penetrating eyes on the students. "I'm very sorry to hear about the loss of your teacher."

Harry reflected for a moment that he did not sound at all sorry.

"However, we are still here, and we still have things to learn. Take out your math homework while I call the roll."

His attention brought back to his torn paper, Harry sighed and pushed the pieces into his book bag, annoyed at the drop his already-borderline grade would take by report time. It wasn't that Harry was a poor student. He was at least average. But, because of Dudley, he hardly ever got to turn in his work without it being ripped, scribbled on, or whited-out. (On one particular assignment about plants that Harry had done in third grade, Dudley had whited-out letters in the paper so it appeared that Harry had written several, random strings of curse words in the middle of his essay. That had not only earned him a fail, but a detention and lectures from his teacher, the head, and the Dursleys.)

"Now that that is finished, on to work. We'll go up the rows. I want you to stand, give the answer, and remain standing until I tell you to sit. Make sure to be marking your papers as we go." Looking at the blond girl in the first row by the door, Mr. Williams said, "Bartlet, the answer to question one."

She stood up. "Forty-two."

"Yes, sit. Carlson, number two."

"Eighty-nine."

"Sit. Dursley, number three."

"Thirteen."

"Sit." On it went, uninterrupted, until Mr. Williams said, "Potter, number eighteen."

Unsure if he should stand or not, Harry said, "I don't have it."

"Do you follow directions? I said to stand before answering."

Harry stood up. "I don't have it."

Mr. Williams looked at him over the top of his answer sheet. "Why not?"

Dudley was glaring a deadly warning across the room at Harry, and Piers kept poking the back of his leg with the toe of his sneaker.

"I didn't do it," Harry answered softly, looking down.

"Is this a habit of yours? Not doing homework?"

"No."

His arms folded behind his back, Mr. Williams strolled across the front of the room until he stood at the head of Harry's row. "No homework, and no manners." The tall man walked up the aisle until he stood mere feet from Harry. Mr. Williams towered over the boy. "You will address me with respect, am I clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes, _sir_."

"Yes, sir."

After a lingering stare, Mr. Williams walked back to the front of the room. "Smith, number eighteen. Do not sit down, Potter," he ordered sharply, not looking up from his answer sheet.

Harry, who'd been about to drop back into his seat, stood up straight, his face going crimson. He could hear Piers snickering behind him.

Angie Smith cast a pitying glance over her shoulder at Harry before saying, "Thirty-four, sir."

"Sit. Swift, number nineteen."

"Twelve and a half."

"Sit. Thompson, number twenty."

"Three-eighths."

"Sit." Mr. Williams dropped the answer sheet on his desk. "Make sure your name is on your paper and pass it forward. I want a neat pile on Mr. Thompson's desk." He looked at Harry. "Sit down, Potter."

His face still burning with humiliation, Harry sat.

* * *

Harry sighed and tried to massage out the numbness that was growing in his legs. He'd been cramped behind the trash dumpster by the cafeteria for the last twenty minutes, and he was beginning to lose all feeling in his limbs.

It had started at the beginning of recess. After walking out to the play field, Harry was more than mildly concern when he heard Gordon announce that it was time to go Harry Hunting. Sneaking away before any of Dudley's gang saw him, Harry had squeezed himself into his best hiding place and hadn't moved. He was very grateful that there were only ten minutes left until they got to go back inside.

Footsteps on the gravel drive approached Harry's hiding spot. He tensed.

"Where did he get to?" It was Piers.

"I don't know. Poor sport, he is. We only wanted to play," Gordon complained.

Dudley and Piers laughed.

The three leaned against the side of the dumpster, Dudley's foot only inches from Harry's shoe. If any of them looked down...

Harry tried to push himself farther behind the dumpster, but only managed to slide his foot even closer to Dudley's. He sucked in a sharp breath, holding it until he was sure none of them had noticed.

Crisp steps suddenly echoed in the narrow space behind the cafeteria. "What are you three doing back here?" Mr. Williams's voice demanded. "Out to the play field. And if I find you sneaking out of sight of the field monitor again, it'll be a detention."

"Yes, sir."

"Sorry, sir."

The three boys hurried around the side of the building.

Mr. Williams stood by the dumpster for several seconds before saying, his voice amused, "Cozy, Potter?"

A mounting feeling of doom swelled in Harry's chest as he sat, silent, praying for his life to just end. Of all the people Harry ever hoped to never have find him cowering behind a trash dumpster, Mr. Williams had to be somewhere very close to number one.

"Come out here, Potter." The amusement was gone, being replaced by a cool, even tone that betrayed none of the man's thoughts.

Untying his numb legs, Harry crawled out from behind the dumpster. His face went bright red as he stood up, pulling his baggy T-shirt back into place on his shoulder. Staring at Mr. Williams's expensive-looking shoes, he waited for his punishment.

"An explanation, if you please, Potter."

"Sorry, sir?"

"Why were you hiding?"

"I wasn't _hiding_. I was just...sitting."

"Behind a dumpster?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled, feeling very stupid.

"Back to the play field, Mr. Potter," Mr. Williams ordered, not unkindly. He rested a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder, directing him around the corner. The field was empty except for the monitor and two students who were running towards the doors carrying soccer balls.

The field monitor for the day was Mrs. Hales, Harry's old first grade teacher. She walked towards the two. "Is everything all right, Mr. Williams?"

"Everything is fine. I'm just collecting my student."

The hand on Harry's shoulder suddenly seemed heavier. A minute later, when he walked into the classroom, Mr. Williams still directing him, Harry thought he would die at the look of joy on Dudley's face. It was obvious that he thought whatever Harry had been up to, had gotten him in trouble. And wouldn't Dudley just love to be the one to go home and his parents about Harry getting in trouble with the new teacher already? And twice in one day, at that.

Mr. Williams let go of Harry and went to his desk. "Now that you're fed, watered, and exercised, let's get back to lessons. Pens and paper out for notes." He turned and started writing on the chalkboard in a heavy, cramped scrawl.

TBC


	3. Old Friends in the Park

Disclaimer: standard--see chapter one.

* * *

Severus rubbed his eyes as he looked over the history homework he'd collected that day. He was only halfway through the third one, and he already had a headache. It wasn't because the writing was particularly bad, nor were the answer mundane: he simply did not know much about muggle history, and had to keep looking up the answers in an ancient textbook.

A correcting quill. That was what he needed. Then it wouldn't matter if he knew the answers or not: the quill would mark the papers for him.

Severus looked around. He needed an owl... Maybe he'd have to take a trip to London over the weekend. Until then, the students weren't getting their homework back.

Sighing, he set the stack of papers on his coffee table and stood up. He walked to the large, front window of the house he'd _acquired_ and peered out at the neighborhood. The sun was starting to set, but there were still children out riding bikes and playing ball in the middle of the street.

Suddenly, Severus heard yelling coming from the corner near the park. Looking in that direction, he spotted Piers wriggling between the bars of the gate that locked it off for the night. Right behind him, Dudley Dursley was trying to heave his weight over the top.

"Hold him!" Dudley called breathlessly.

They can't be getting after Potter _again_, Severus groaned inwardly. Ah, well. All the better for me, I suppose. Chance to be the-- What was it he said? Loving mentor? He smirked as he opened his front door and strolled down the sidewalk.

When he came even with the park gate--which Dudley had finally managed to haul himself over--he saw the same three who'd been behind the school earlier that day gathered around a fourth, much smaller boy. Potter didn't seem to be hurt yet, just scared. Severus frowned. Scared wasn't enough. Not yet. He would have to save the boy from a very severe beating if he hoped to find himself as the "loving mentor." He slowed his steps to give the three a chance to pound on Potter for a few minutes.

He didn't have to wait long. Once Piers had Potter's arms pinned behind his back, Dudley wasted no time burying one of his meaty fists in the smaller boy's stomach. Potter doubled over and dropped to the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. The third boy, who was not in Severus's class, kicked Potter in the back and legs several times while Dudley and Piers scoffed and sniggered. Severus was reminded forcibly of Crabbe, Goyle, and Knott Juniors.

Severus took his wand out of his pocket and lazily tapped the gate's lock. It swung open soundlessly. As he tucked his wand away, Dudley kicked Potter in the chest and Piers stomped on his ankle. The third boy was just aiming a kick at the back of Potter's head when Severus decided he should probably say something. An unconscious Potter would not be able to be a grateful Potter, after all.

"What do you three think you're doing?" His voice was cold, and Severus felt some sharp satisfaction at seeing Piers visibly shiver at his question.

They backed away from Potter immediately, but their only escape lay behind Severus, and none of them seemed to dare try and get by him.

Severus peered down at Harry, who groaned in pain as he tried to sit up. "Polkiss and Dursley, is it? And who are you?"

The boy, who must have seemed so huge to Potter, shrunk before Severus, obviously sensing that this was not a man to be messed with. "Um, Verge, sir. Gordon Verge."

"Sir, um, we can expla--"

"No need. I'll be making calls to your parents this evening. I suggest you all get home. You'll want to be there to defend yourselves while I am handing out tongue lashing to your mothers and fathers."

For a moment, Dudley seemed unable to figure out what he meant, but Piers caught on fairly quickly and took the invitation to leave. Gordon and Dudley, seeing their friend fleeing without reprimand, scurried close behind him.

Severus turned to Potter, who was still only half sitting, his arm curled protectively around his ribs and stomach. "All right, Potter?"

"Yes, sir." There were tears in his eyes.

"You look a right mess." Severus took a strong hold of the boy's upper arm and hauled him to his feet. "Up you get. I dare say my house is at least a bit closer than yours. We can stop there and call your parents to come and get you."

Potter shook his head slightly, visibly fighting more tears as the ones that had been shining in his eyes spilled down his flushed cheeks.

"I'm not going to leave you here. Where do you live?"

He shook his head again.

Sighing with exasperation, Severus took Potter's arm again. "Come on, now. Don't cry," he admonished lightly.

"I'm not." The fear had finally left the boy's eyes and was replaced by anger. By pure rage.

That's what we want to see, Potter, Severus thought contently. "Come with me. Get you some tea, at least. I won't send you home on your own in that state."

Reluctantly, moving only at Severus's coaxing grip on his arm, Potter walked up the path, through the open gate, and down the sidewalk. He didn't say anything. Severus peered at him for a moment when he felt Potter start to shake. Heavier streams of tears coursed down his face.

"I live just here," he said quietly, directing Harry up the front walk. He opened the door and pushed Potter inside with a light hand on the small of his back. "You can sit on the couch while I get some tea made. Don't touch anything." With that, Severus disappeared into the kitchen. It took only a second and a flick of his wand to make tea, but Severus was sure he'd heard somewhere that it took a while for muggles to do it, so he stood by the counter for a minute, then picked up the two cups and went back into the living room. "Here. Hope you don't mind it with milk."

"No, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Now you remember your manners," he commented, sipping his own tea.

There was a short pause while Severus drank a little more, in which Potter just stared into his cup.

"Are you hurt badly anywhere?"

"No, sir. I mean, not really." Pause. Potter set his cup on the coffee table. "I should go. I'll be in trouble as it is, and it's getting dark out."

"In trouble? What for?"

Potter looked at his hands, a slight scowl on his face. Several moments passed. "Just being late, I guess."

"Surely your parents won't be angry. I said I'll bring you home. I can explain to them what--"

"No! Thank you. Sir. I'll be fine. I just have to go." He stood up. "And they're not my parents," he added before retreating.

Severus sat, watching the boy limp out the door. Any good teacher wouldn't have let him go. But Severus wasn't trying to be a good teacher. He was trying to win the boy's trust and confidence, and that meant not pushing anything too far, too fast. It wouldn't do to have Potter thinking Mr. Williams had any of his information by force. Let him volunteer it. It would be worth so much more that way.

Smiling, Severus riffled through his paperwork for the directory of student telephone numbers. Now for the fun part of being a teacher: getting the little rats in trouble.

* * *

"Lancaster, read from the first paragraph on page thirty-five."

As Aaron Lancaster stood up and began to read, Harry turned his head and looked out the window. Two days had passed since Mr. Williams had found him in the park and he still hadn't commented on it other than a stern, but vague warning to the entire class about how bullying, if discovered, would not be tolerated among his students.

"Potter, second paragraph."

Harry stood up. When he was finished and given permission to sit down, he went back to staring out the window. It was sort of strange. He'd expected to be in loads of trouble when he walked into the Dursleys' that night. He'd been in trouble in school--twice--and then he'd come home after dark and, more importantly, after Dudley. But he hadn't gotten anything. Uncle Vernon had looked him up and down, taking in his torn clothes, bloodied hands, and bruised face, then sent him to his cupboard without a word. Dudley, who'd been sitting on the floor in the living room, two feet from the TV, a huge bowl of ice cream in his lap, had looked no worse for the wear, but Harry hadn't really expected him to be punished.

Harry was jostled out of his thoughts by the bell ringing.

"Settle down, settle down," Mr. Williams drawled as he finished writing their homework on the board. "You're dismissed once you've copied your assignment."

"Mr. Williams?"

"Yes, Miss Smith?"

"When are we going to get our homework from Monday back?"

"When I give it to you," he answered scathingly, his dark eyes narrowed with some emotion akin to annoyance.

"Yes, sir."

Standing up, Harry scooped his books into his bag. He was just about to pull the heavy bag unto his sore shoulders when Mr. Williams said, "Potter."

Everyone stopped and stared. Harry's classmates had not gone ignorant to the new tension between Mr. Williams and himself for very long.

"Yes, sir?"

"Stay back a moment."

"Yes, sir."

From the grin that spread over Piers's face as he peered back over his shoulder from the doorway, Harry knew he, Dudley, and, probably Gordon, would be waiting for him around some corner on his walk home. Gordon, who'd been punished the worst of the three, had been hissing his want for revenge every time he found himself and Harry in the hall without any authority figures around.

For several minutes after the class had emptied, Mr. Williams continued to sit behind his desk, marking grammar quizzes. Just when Harry was sure the man had forgotten he'd asked him to stay, Mr. Williams looked up.

"How are those ribs?"

"Sore, a bit."

"I've been wanting to ask you about your guardians. You claim you don't live with your parents."

"No, sir."

"Who do you live with?"

"My aunt and uncle, sir."

Mr. Williams smirked slightly, his eyes hard with malice. After a moment, his expression changed back to one of polite curiosity. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead. They were in an accident when I was a year old."

"I see. The reason I am asking this is, I found it extremely interesting that when I went to look up your telephone number to report your poor homework performance, I found the exact one I called two evening ago when I spoke with Mr. Dursley. The Dursleys are your aunt and uncle, I'm assuming?"

Oh, wonderful... "Yes, sir."

"I also assume that your troubles with Dursley, the younger are a factor in your poor attention and work performance, is he not?"

Harry looked down at his desk.

"Look at me when we are having a conversation."

Harry looked back up. "Yes, sir. Sorry."

"And kindly answer my question."

Pause. "I sometimes have a hard time getting my homework done, so I try to do it in class before the bell rings. I use to be able to," he added ruefully. So far, Mr. Williams had not been to the class room early a single of his three days: a fact that gave Harry no small amount of dismay.

Quietly, Mr. Williams spoke, "This is a family situation. It is not a teacher's place to interfere with family situations. However, I do understand your predicament and am, however distantly so, sympathetic to your problems. Or at least the problem of your grades. So we shall try something. In an effort to keep you from failing, and as you obviously need the extra help, you will attend compulsory study sessions with me each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon. They will be one hour each. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Somehow, it sounded like he'd just been given a permanent detention sentence.

"Very good then." Mr. Williams slid a folded piece of paper across his desk in Harry's direction. "Take this letter to your aunt and uncle. It explains everything. Now hurry home. You don't want to be late."

For one, wild second, Harry considered telling Mr. Williams that Dudley and his gang would be waiting for him; waiting to jump out and start beating on him again. But the impulse passed and he took his book bag and his letter, and left.

TBC


	4. Stirring the Dragons

Disclaimer: standard--see chapter one.

* * *

Friday dragged as Harry watched the clock, counting down until he'd have to start his first study session with Mr. Williams. It wasn't that he didn't like the man, he just didn't relish having to spend three extra hours a week doing school work.

"Your assignment is on the board, and--" Mr. Williams stopped, looking at the clock. "We seem to have finished early."

The class gave a small cheer.

"Take your science books back out and outline chapter three until the bell rings. No talking."

A collective groan filled the room.

Harry couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew Mr. Williams would never give them free time during class, for any reason--it was something about his personality--and to hear the disappointment from others who did not seem to catch on to their teacher's attitude towards free time made him want to laugh.

Half way through the chapter, the bell rang.

"Make sure you copied your homework."

"I wish he'd give us back our graded work," Angie Smith muttered to her friend, Lisa Perry. "We have a test Monday, and it would be nice to be able to study."

Lisa nodded as she followed her friend out to the teeming hall.

When the room was emptied, as well as the hall beyond, Mr. Williams looked up from the book he was reading. "It seems we are left to our own devices, Potter."

"Yes, sir. Shall I come up to your desk?"

"What for?"

Suddenly feeling unsure of himself, Harry glanced down at his books. "To study?"

"You don't need extra study. Well, yes, actually, let's face it. You're hopeless in history. But other than that, you're fine. Consider this time to do your homework without...distraction."

"He'll just tear it up tomorrow morning anyway," Harry muttered, opening his notebook.

"Is that how stupid you really think I am?" Mr. Williams sneered.

Harry was once again startled to look up from his work and find a dark, penetrating stare eating into him. There was something in those eyes that barely seemed human. "N-no, sir. I don't think you're stupid at all."

"Then stop talking to me like you do. I know very well why you haven't been turning in your work."

Harry glared at him. "Then why do you still make me stand up in the middle of class when you know it's not my fault?"

"There is no acceptable excuse for not having homework short of a lost limb or other major bodily organ," he snapped back. "Whatever your reason, I will not allow your issues to interfere with the authority in my classroom. Now do your homework. Leave it on my desk before you go."

Silently, Harry opened his book and started copying the study questions into his notebook. It was sort of funny now that the rest of the class was gone. Mr. Williams didn't seem quite so mean. Oh, he wasn't nice, but he wasn't being quite as much of a dictator. Sort of like the night he'd taken Harry into his living room, gotten him tea, and offered to take him home. Mr. Williams sure hadn't been nice, snapping at him not to touch things, and all. But he'd wanted to help... Harry smiled a little.

The hour passed quickly. When the activity bell rang at four, Harry closed his book. When he looked up and saw Mr. Williams eating a sandwich, a cup of steaming tea on the desk in front of him, he was suddenly reminded of how very long ago lunch was. He hoped he'd be allowed to eat dinner.

As if he sensed he was being stared at, Mr. Williams looked up. "All done?" His eyes narrowed. "Stop staring at me like I'm an entree. You can't be that hungry."

"I didn't get much lunch."

He raised an eyebrow. "You bring your lunch from home, do you not?"

Once more, Harry looked away from the man's eyes. He heard Mr. Williams sigh.

"Lunch _was_ a while ago. Here. I brought an extra apple."

Harry looked at the offered fruit. The Dursleys would be so mad if they found out he was begging food off of other people. They'd say it makes them look bad. But still, he was hungry...Aunt Petunia never packed he as much food as she gave Dudley. With little more thought, Harry walked up to the desk and took the apple.

"Thank you, sir."

"You should bring an extra snack when we meet. Then you wouldn't have to grub off other people."

His cheeks flushing scarlet, Harry just started down at the apple. "Yes, sir."

There were a few moments of tense silence before Mr. Williams said softly, "Make sure to leave your homework before you go. I'll grade it tonight and you can pick it up in my mailbox at the office Monday morning."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Harry rushed back to his desk and got his books. On his way by, he dropped a small pile of papers covered in dark scribbles on Mr. Williams's desk, then headed out the door, apple in hand.

* * *

"I feel so domestic," Severus muttered, waving his wand to duplicate the lunch bag he'd made for himself. To think, he was packing a school lunch for Harry Potter. But it was perfect. Potter had revealed to him that he didn't get enough to eat from his aunt. It was not inferred knowledge, nor was it forced, which made it the perfect knowledge to act upon in building his relationship of trust with the boy.

And one of the first things Voldemort had taught him about making friends and torturing people was that the basic, life-sustaining essentials were always the best way to start.

When he had everything put in his carrying bag, Severus left the house, locking the door behind him. It was a very short walk to work. He stopped in at the office, smiled at the pretty, red-haired secretary, and dropped Potter's homework in his mailbox.

"I'll be having a student come in to get some things out of my box this morning, Ellen," he told her.

"All right. Have a good day, Mr. Williams."

She really was a pleasant woman.

As he was leaving the office, he saw Potter walk through the front doors and start towards him.

"I already dropped them off, Potter," Severus informed him.

"Thank you, sir."

Severus maneuvered his way through the crowded halls and into his classroom. He liked coming later so there wouldn't be so many students to pick his way around, but this, too, was all for a good cause. Potter had also made it painfully obvious, on more than one occasion, that Dudley and Piers tormented him in the morning. He would be a very poor "loving mentor," indeed, if he did nothing to ease that burden once he'd been made aware of it.

Sitting behind his desk, Severus took his book out of his bag. He'd stopped in at Diagon Alley on Saturday, picked up three correcting quills, several bottles of ink, a potions book--for entertainment reading--that he'd bewitched to look like an economics textbook to anyone besides himself, and a small supply of Tongue-Twisting Taffy--the only sweet he enjoyed, and which he'd missed severely over the previous week.

"Good morning, sir." Potter walked into the room carrying his papers. "You're hear early."

"There is merit in getting up with the sun," he replied easily, looking back at his book.

"Yes, sir."

"Potty, oh Potty! We all know he's--oof!"

Piers, who'd just elbowed Dudley in the stomach to make him be quiet, was looking at Severus warily. Dudley, just noticing that the teacher was in, remained silent, though he glared at his friend as he rubbed his stomach.

Severus watched Potter dive behind one of his textbooks to hide the fact that he was dangerously close to laughing.

The rest of the class trickled in over the next few minutes, chatting to each other until the bell rang.

"All right, everyone. Math homework out while I call roll." Severus went through the list very quickly, giving each student only enough time to make a slight noise of presence before calling the next name. "Very good. On to homework. We'll be going up the rows. Bartlet, number one."

"Ninety-nine."

"Sit. Carlson, number two."

When at last he reached Potter, Severus paused. "Shall I bother to call your name today, Potter?"

For a moment, the boy seemed confused. Severus could almost hear him thinking, But he _knows_ I have my work! "Er, yes, sir."

"Very well, then. Stand up, and give me number eighteen."

"Sixty-two."

"Sit. Smith, number nineteen."

Glancing back at Potter, Severus was pleased to see him looking happy with himself. That contentment was good. Very good. But only it if surfaced in controlled situations, and overlaid the right amount of hostility.

Once the homework was passed forward and the students were set to drills, Severus sat in his seat. Hmm, perhaps I've been a bit heavy-handed with those boys, he mused, peering at first Dudley, whose face was screwed up in painful concentration, then Piers, whose pencil was zipping back and forth across the page as if he needn't read the questions at all to know their answers. We can't have Potter's torment easing up. After a moment of thought, Severus smiled to himself and opened his potions book. Ah, I know just the thing.

TBC


	5. Finding What He Wants

Disclaimer: standard--see chapter one.

* * *

Severus put his plan to increase Potter's suffering into motion shortly after lunch. "Miss Smith, you will be pleased to know that you will now receive back your graded homework assignments," he said coolly once everyone had settled down from being outside.

Angie's face turned slightly pink.

"I was, however, very disappointed in your grades. Did Mrs. Dandelion teach you anything while she was here?"

"Umm, sir, it's Donaldson."

"Whichever," he dismissed, scooping the stack of red-ink-covered papers off his desk. "Let's see what we haven't learned, shall we?" He walked over to Lancaster's desk and glared for a moment. It was much easier to criticize students in subjects he was familiar with...this muggle history was presenting something of a challenge. "Three marks out of ten, Lancaster. I suggest you try opening a book." He dropped the heavily-inked paper on the boy's desk with a sneer.

Dudley laughed a little.

When no reprimand came, a couple others giggled.

Potter was looking at Severus with confusion.

Severus continued through the pile of homework, handing out snide comments and backwards compliments to each student until there were only three who had not stood before the fire squad: Dursely, Polkiss, and Potter.

"Mr. Dudley Dursley," Severus read slowly, strolling towards the fat boy. "Well, at the very least, I can say you spelled your name right. But I'm quite afraid schools stop giving out marks for that after you leave kindergarten," he concluded nastily.

Dudley's round face went quickly from a healthy tan to a sick puce as he stared up at the formidable Mr. Williams.

"If you'd have managed to spell 'Britain' correctly as well, I might have found some merit to give you at least a couple points. But as this piece of trash stands..." he trailed off in disgust as he dropped at shiny, red F on the Dudley's desk.

Dudley looked fit to kill as several people in the class started giggling and chuckling.

"Mr. Polkiss. What, may I ask, is this?" Severus held up an unmarked paper for all to see.

"My homework," Piers answered slowly.

"Wrong, Polkiss. This is nothing. As atrocious as your penmanship is, I only concluded that this rubbish was yours as you were the last left without a grade. Well, second to last, as Mr. Potter didn't turn anything in. However, his lack of work also left me with a lack of annoyance, so, by scale, he's found himself up a bit from you and Mr. Dursley. Indeed, from most in this room. If you ever turn something that looks like _this_ in to me again, you'll be copying lines every afternoon until the end of the school year. Do I make myself clear?"

Piers glared murderously. "Yes, sir."

Harry looked fearful for his very life.

"I will not take every opportunity to give individual critiques on homework. I hope this little exercise has enlightened you all, and I expect to see a marked improvement in your work. And since I did have to take up all this time to go over your work, there will be no lecture notes. You have thirty minutes to outline chapter five in your history books and place it on my desk. Anyone who is not finished with pay severe penalties. I am not in a mood to be trifled with--Put your hand down _now_, Miss Smith!"

The next thirty minutes were filled with the furious sounds of pencils scratching on paper as everyone rushed to finish their work.

Sitting behind his desk, once more perusing his potions book, Severus felt satisfied that Dudley and Piers were ready to kill Potter at their first possible opportunity. Potter might blame me, he mused. No. I'll have my chance to smooth things over before anything happens.

* * *

When the final bell rang, Harry didn't lift his head from where he'd dropped it on his desk five minutes ago. He was too busy being depressed and scared. He'd seen the look on Dudley's face: he was dead.

When all the students were gone and the hall was silent, Mr. Williams's voice filled the quiet space. "Potter, I have-- What's the matter?"

Harry looked up, his eyes wide with borderline hysterics. "What's the matter? You just chopped me up into little pieces, and now I'm just waiting for the wolves to get me, and you want to know what's the matter!"

Mr. Williams's eyes narrowed. "I don't see your point."

"Dudley and Piers are going to murder me."

"Over what?"

"Your little homework comment. I'm dead! Sir," he added quickly.

"What comment? I merely made mention that you hadn't turned yours in."

"After telling-- Never mind. You don't get it."

Mr. Williams crouched beside Harry's desk so they were at eyelevel with one another. His dark eyes were open and apologetic.

Harry started slightly, finally lifting his head from his desk.

"I'm sorry. I hadn't realized my little tirade would cause you such problems. I suppose I wasn't thinking as I should have been. But it is frustrating to grade so much homework written in tiny, illegible writing, done by children who haven't even attempted their readings."

"That's your job. You get paid to do that."

Mr. Williams laughed a little. It was a hollow laugh. "Not enough, I don't." Pause. "Look, I'm sorry. I really am. I wish I could take back what I said. But as I can't, I can only try to make it up to you." He plopped a brown paper bag in front of Harry.

"What's this?"

"A snack. I made double when I did mine. I don't want to pry, but you didn't make it sound like you get fed very well at home."

Awestruck, Harry stared between the bag and Mr. Williams. Never, in his life, had anyone done something so nice for him. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Williams smiled a little. "Eat up, then get to your homework."

Not needing to be told twice, Harry tore into the food. There was a thick peanut butter sandwich, some chips, a pastry, and another perfect, round, red apple. It was better than Aunt Petunia had ever packed him for lunch. Usually, she gave him a small juice drink, a couple carrot sticks or some celery, and a thin half-a-sandwich made out of the loaf heels. He smiled. He'd save the apple for the walk home.

When he finished eating, Harry opened his book and did his work. By the time he was done, there were only fifteen minutes before he had to go, so he leaned back in his chair and took out the apple, unable to resist, and, after polishing it on his shirt the way he'd seen Mr. Williams do his, took a huge bite.

Mr. Williams looked up. "Done, are you?"

"Yes, sir."

"No questions, comments, or concerns?"

"No, sir."

"Well, boy, bring up your work and we'll go over it."

Gathering his papers in his apple-free hand, Harry went up to Mr. Williams's desk.

"Math, first. That's your weak subject."

"No, I'm good at math. History is where I have--"

"The assignment was on page forty, correct?"

"Um, yes, sir."

Mr. Williams opened his own math book and took Harry's paper. He went over the first row of questions, ticking off the ones that were all right. Without looking up, he said, "Don't hover over my shoulder. Get a chair."

When the activity bell rang, Harry looked at the clock in disappointment. He found he really enjoyed sitting with Mr. Williams, going over work, or just talking. Well, not talking, really. Bickering back and forth over math problems, was more like. But it was good-natured bickering, and Mr. Williams seemed to enjoy it, too.

"Time for you to be on your way. Have a good night."

Harry stood up and picked up his book bag, dreading the impending confrontation with Dudley and his gang. "Yes, sir. You, too."

"And Harry, I really am sorry I caused more problems for you."

Shaking his head, Harry said, "It's all right. Dudley's always mad at me about something anyway." He tried to smile bravely, but felt like he only looked more nervous, because Mr. Williams didn't return the smile.

"You're a good kid, Harry. You'll be fine as long as you keep in mind what, exactly, it is that you want. And don't forget to trust in yourself to be able to get it."

Harry snorted. "Yeah. Thanks."

"You'll see what I mean when you're older."

With a last, forced smile, Harry turned and walked out into the hallway. He found he hated the real world--the world beyond Mr. Williams's classroom door. It was too big, and too scary. Too full of people who wanted to hurt him. If only he could stay with Mr. Williams forever. Yeah, he wasn't very nice on purpose, but he was all right.

TBC


	6. The Disappearance of Mr Williams

Disclaimer: standard--see chapter one.

11/22: chapter updated: with an author's note at the end

* * *

Harry laughed out loud, nearly tipping back in his chair. Mr. Williams was laughing, too. It was a strange, rusty sound, like he hadn't laughed in forever. He probably hadn't, Harry mused.

"It's late. Out with you."

"Mr. Williams..."

"No. It's getting dark. I'll not be responsible for you getting into trouble."

Harry made a face as Mr. Williams stuffed his school bag into his arms and ushered him towards the front door. "What can the Dursleys really do anyway? That's what you showed me, you know. I don't have to worry about them. Soon, I'll be going away to school. No more Aunt Petunia, no more Uncle Vernon, and, best of all, no more Dinky Diddy Duddykins!" he finished in a high, sing-song voice. He laughed again.

"I don't know if I like you when you're tired and hyper. Go home. Sleep."

A wide grin still on his face, Harry jumped off the front step of Mr. Williams's house and started down the path towards the sidewalk, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. It had been one crazy year, but it was almost over. They were in the final week of exams, and then it would be summer! And starting next year, he'd be away from Dudley.

And away from Mr. Williams... A sharp pain twisted in Harry's gut. All through the year, he'd been getting closer and closer to Mr. Williams, and, he was sure, vice versa.

There had been some hard times over the year, there was no doubting that. Some of the hardest Harry had ever faced.

There was the time rumors got around about Harry liking Angie Smith. That would have been embarrassing in itself, but then Dudley got on his case pretty severely because _he_ liked Angie Smith. Dudley had even tried to get his seat switched with Harry's half way through the year, but Mr. Williams had refused. Between Piers sitting behind him, Angie in front of him, and Dudley punching him in the shoulder every time they were alone together, things had gotten pretty painful before they died down.

The worst of it had to have been when it slipped to Dudley somehow that Harry's after school sessions were really study helps, not detentions (which he'd been made fun of enough for once everyone caught on that he was, in fact, staying after three times a week--but that was a whole different, though equaly painful, episode), he'd told everyone, and for about two months, Harry couldn't walk down the hall without someone making snide comments about him being stupid, or making nasty remarks about the _true_ nature of Harry Potter and Mr. Williams's relationship...

It had infuriated Harry to no end, but Mr. Williams just took it all in stride and was always there when he needed him. It was like having the best father in the world, but he only got to see him away from home.

About a month before the end of school, Harry started meeting with Mr. Williams at his house once a week on top of the three other sessions. They both claimed to themselves and each other that it was to help Harry prepare for exams: but they seemed to spend more time talking about other things, from serious issues about the meanings life and death, to light ribbing about girls and friends--or both of theirs lack thereof. He grinned at the memory.

_FLASHBACK _

_"I saw you talking to Ms. Reede in the office." _

_Mr. Williams looked uneffect as he turned the page in Harry's book in his search for the answer to one of the study questions. "Did you?" _

_Harry grinned. "Yeah. You're always in there with her in the mornings." _

_"I have to drop your homework in my box, if you remember correctly." _

_"She always smiles at you, too." _

_Mr. Williams narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Ellen is the school--" _

_"Ellen?" Harry asked, making a face. _

_"Potter," he warned. _

_"Sorry." Harry looked at the book, grinning to himself. "Are you going to ask her out?" _

_His thin lips curled in annoyance, Mr. Williams shoved the history textbook into Harry chest. "Find the answer for question five. It should be around this page. I'm going to make some tea." _

_Harry laughed, watching his teacher leave the room. _

_"If you don't have that answer when I get back, you'll be going home to do your work. You don't come over here to play," Mr. Williams added coolly over his shoulder. _

_Harry bit his cheek to keep from laughing, though he was still grining uncontrollably as he scanned the text page. _

_END FLASHBACK_

Mr. Williams had also been helping Harry put his situation with the Dursleys in perspective. He was always telling him, "You can do anything you want, as long as you want it badly enough, and are willing to go after it. When you see what you want, Harry, take it, because you deserve it. You deserve to get everything you've ever wanted for what they've put you through. Not just them, but everybody."

The best side effect of Harry's time with Mr. Williams was a sudden building of confidence. He found himself standing up to Dudley more. Well, maybe not standing up to him, but not being so afraid to defend himself when he was cornered. He wasn't afraid of making Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon angry any more. He didn't go out of his way to, but if they got mad at something, that was their problem, not his. He took his punishment in stride.

"Wear your stripes proudly," Mr. Williams had told him once.

During one of his sessions with Mr. Williams after a particularly long term without meals, Harry had been ready to break down.

_FLASHBACK _

_"I can't stand it anymore! Why do I have to go through this? Why do I have to--have to sneak around, like some criminal, just to eat? I mean, it's not fair!" _

_His voice deep and soothing, Mr. Williams had replied, "Life is always fair, Harry. It gives you what you need to become stronger. It helps you deal with itself. Everything you go through is meant to be stored for later use. Those feelings you get about the Dursleys, that pain and fear--" _

_"I'm not afraid of them!" Harry had yelled, banging his fist on the coffee table, knocking over Mr. Williams's tea cup. There were tears of frustration streaming, unchecked, down his face. "I just hate them, and I don't know what to do about it!" _

_"Harry, life will give you something to do about it. One day, the perfect chance to do everything you've ever dreamed of doing will fall into your hands. But you have to be prepared for it. You have to be ready and willing to take it when it comes. Because life doesn't give out second chances. Only fools and old men give second chances." Mr. Williams moved so he was kneeling on the floor in front of Harry, his long-fingered hands resting on the boy's shoulders. "When the time comes, Harry, you have to do what you know in your heart needs to be done. Whatever that may be." His voice softened. "It's good you're not afraid. You don't need to be. You just need to be prepared." _

_"I can't wait until I can leave. I'm gonna leave and never, _never _go back." _

_Mr. Williams smiled. "And you'll remember that as the best of your life." _

_END FLASHBACK_

Harry grinned to himself. It would be the best day of his life, and it was so close. Just one more week of exams, one more summer of the Dursleys, then he'd be on his way off to the school. Or, at the very least, Dudley would. And that was relief enough for the moment. A full severing of ties would come later. But he just had to remember that it would come, and he'd have to be ready for it when it did.

* * *

Now there's the arrogant, Gryffindor brat I remember, Severus sneered to himself while he watched from his window as Harry strode down the walk and across the street. He'd changed so much from the scared little boy Mr. Williams had first offered tea and comfort to.

It was with a twinge of regret that Severus suddenly realized that he'd hated Harry all those years for being just like his father, when in reality, the boy was only like that because of Severus, himself. I do love a good, heavy helping of irony, he mused, moving back to the couch.

Sighing, he put his feet up on the coffee table. He only had a week left, though. See Harry through his exams, and then he'd be on his way home. He would almost be sorry to leave the peace of the past.

Well, relative peace. With all the pre-teen angst he'd been causing and soothing, Severus was slightly worn out. Sure, spreading rumors of his own illicit affair with his ten year old, male student might have been all in good fun, but he wished he'd never done the "let's all love Angie Smith" game. But he did have to admit, stirring up a classroom full of ten and eleven year olds into a frenzy over a make-believe, potion-induced, love triangle, and then handing out Band-Aids to the injured, was much more relaxing than firefights in secret, Ministry departments and graveyards.

"It'll all be over soon," he told himself. When I return, Harry will join with the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore will fall. His reign in the school and the wizarding community will be over. Though Severus had to admit he was a bit confused. The reality he'd lived was, indeed, reality, or he would have lived a different life since Harry's enrollment at Hogwarts. So when he returned, Harry Potter would still be the arrogant Gryffindor who hates the greasy Potions Master. Unless there was some other part to the Dark Lord's master plan...

* * *

Harry hummed to himself as he jogged up to Mr. Williams's door. Now that tests were over and summer was here, hopefully they could spend more time together. He rang the bell and waited.

Several seconds passed.

He rang again.

Silence.

Testing the knob, Harry found it unlocked, and pushed the door open. "Mr. Williams? Hello?" The house was as silent and as still as if no one had ever lived there. Walking around the corner into the living room, Harry was startle to see the couch, television, table, and chairs gone. The walls were bare.

"Mr. Williams?"

Harry darted into the kitchen. The counters--always covered in dirty dishes and used tea bags--were empty and clean. The cupboards were bare, as was the refrigerator.

"Mr. Williams?"

Running up the stairs two at a time, Harry nearly tripped when he reached the top landing. He opened each door to find empty room after empty room. He even checked the towel closet in the bathroom. Nothing.

Dejected and confused, Harry walked down the stairs, wondering where Mr. Williams would have gone, and why he hadn't said anything about moving. When he got back to the front hall, he noticed an envelope taped to the back of the main door with his name written on it in handwriting worse that Piers's. Harry took it with numb, slightly shaking fingers.

_Harry, _

_Several things have come up, so I must leave. I would have liked the chance to say goodbye, but it doesn't seem I'll be able to. Please don't be too angry at me. _

_I hope you'll remember everything we talked about over this year. I feel sure it will come in useful at some point. Just remember to be yourself. Don't be afraid of anything. Know who you are and what you want, and be true to those things. I wish I could tell you in person how proud I am of you. I might still be able to, but I doubt you'll believe me if I do. _

_I know how hurt you are right now. And stop crying--_

Harry scrubbed at the tears on his cheeks furiously.

_--This, like everything else, is for your benefit. Add it to yourself--our year together, what you're learning right now, what you'll learn every day between now and when we see each other again--then be prepared to use it. _

_I never was as close with anyone as I have come to be with you. I know we'll meet again some day, but I wonder if you'll know me. _

_I have to go now. _

_Mr. Williams_

TBC

* * *

The TBC at the end of this one is most likely in refrence to a sequel, not anything more here. However, I could be wrong. It depends on how long the next part ends up being. So for all intents and purposes, you can assume this story is finished. Or this part of it, anyway.

As for the fun-sounding side plots of Severus's on-going need to keep Harry miserable by poking Dudley in the eye over and over again... Well, I'd really like to write a couple of those, so they may pop up as extras. If anyone else wants to play with them, please do so, and email me and tell me you did! I'd love to read them.

A/N: One of my reiewers commented on the advanced level of conversation between Harry and Severus ("...but they seemed to spend more time talking about other things, from serious issues about the meanings life and death, to light ribbing about girls and friends--or both of theirs lack thereof.").  
To comment on this: first, this section was from Harry's POV. To a ten year old, any knowledge-based discussion about death with an adult would, more than likely, seem deep and profound.  
Second, it seems natural to me that Harry would want to talk about his parents with Mr. Williams because of their trust level. That would, of course, led to childish questions about what happens to people when they die, and all that line.  
Third, Severus is trying to instill in Harry a grain of malcontent. He would do that by picking--subtly--at the things in Harry's life that bother him: the biggest being his lack of knowledge concerning his parents.  
Looking at it, I probably should have gone into that scene a bit, but I didn't think I needed to run the entire line of the relationship developing. Hopefully the flashback clears up what I had in my mind when I wrote that line...


	7. Part Two UPDATE

Sorry to everyone I promised an update to. I have tried, but it just isn't coming along as easily as I'd hoped it would. However, I will not leave you guys dangling as to plot. This is the snippets that I did get around to writing along with my outline notes to fill in the blank places. Hope this is some consolation... It is certainly a reminder to me why I never post something unless it's complete. I hate feeling like I'm disappointing people... Sorry.

If I ever do get my spark of inspiration back for this, I'll play with it more, but for now--and for a long time, I'm sure--this is as far as I'll go with this plot.

The snippet parts have been moderately edited and should be readable for the most part. The outline sections are purely from my own notes, so there may be spelling mistakes. I plead the fifth on grammar when it comes to outlining...

This picks up right where part one left off.

Hope you like it, and please review.

* * *

Stepping out of the cloud of red smoke, Severus looked across the room at himself. A part of him longed to be on the other side of the room. On his way to that place where things were peaceful.

"I trust you completed your assignment, Severus?"

Looking at Voldemort, Severus nodded slightly. "To the best of my ability."

"Sit. I want a full report." As he spoke, Voldemort settled into his own chair and waited, his red eyed glistening with malignant excitement.

Starting from his arriving and disposing of Mrs. Donaldson, Severus went through the events of the year. He only glazed over some of his more petty plots to remind Harry that he was just a small, abused, unloved boy. When he finished, Severus said, "Now there is only to see how much he retained through the years."

Voldemort smiled darkly. "He will have retained it all. Did he grow fond of you, Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And he trusted you, of course. So trust worthly." A hiss of raspy laughter filled the room. "Very good."

"I'm afraid there are a few things I still don't understand."

Voldemort smiled cruelly. "Only a few?"

"About Potter. And how my traveling back in time changed anything. He's still the same, arrogant person he always was. A pathetically heroic Gryffindor who has every dislike for the Dark Arts."

"Do you trust me, Severus?"

"Of course I do, my Lord. You are the only one I trust. I'm just wondering if I did, in fact, do anything that whole year I spent with him."

"You did everything, Severus. If you had not been there to mold and shape him, it would have been a very scared, very submissive little boy who climbed onto the Hogwarts Express. He would not have been the sort of person who would, say, sneak out of school to go chasing after a killer, even if he knew that man was responsibile for his parents' deaths. Wormtail, as useless as he is, would never have had reason to return to me." A dark emotion flashed in Violdemort's eyes. "Who else would have come to a wreck, such as I was, except a treaturous rodent with no one else to turn to? I would still be eating rat in Albania."

"My Lord--"

"Be quiet, Snape!"

Severus lowered his head, just barely keeping himself from flinching at the biting tone.

"But if, by some other device, I did manage to acquire a helper, that boy would not have been the sort of person who could be lured out of Dumbledore's care. Especially if he knew the great Lord Voldemort was after him. It would be even more difficult to get his blood for my rebirth. So, were I to be reborn at all, I would not have been as powerful as I am now."

Voldemort peered Severus, his lips drawn in a grotesque smile. "You see, Severus? You did everything. I took some severe blows because of that boy over the years, I do not deny. But look when I ultamately ended up." His smile widened.

Voldemort stood and walked to one of the shelves in the back of the room. He picked up a small bottle of black liquid and went back to Severus. "Give this to Harry mixed in a slow-acting euphoria potion."

Severus took the bottle and studied it for a moment. It didn't look like anything he'd ever made or used before. "What will it do?"

"Cause him pain," he answered with relish. "Pain and suffering beyond words. That is when you come in, my friend."

Severus stared intently at his master, once again finding himself in awe of the genius behind the man's every move.

"Sit down, Severus, and I'll tell you the story of a suffering boy whose friends betray him until he is all alone, with no one to trust, except the one person he would never before have thought to confide in..."

* * *

"Albus?"

Dumbledore looked up, his eyes heavy with lack of sleep.

"Severus. Have you found new information about Voldemort's attempt at time travel?"

Having nearly forgotten about that conversation (it had been a year, after all), Severus started for a moment. "No, nothing on that yet. But I have found something. Something much more important."

Sitting up straighter, Dumbledore gestured to the chair across from his own. "Please, Severus, sit."

Sitting down, Severus leaned forward slightly, speaking in a harsh whisper, "The Dark Lord has encountered a problem with his connection to Potter. He did not go into every detail with me, but he did suggest that he has not been able to access the boy as easily as he use to."

"Harry has not continued his Occlumency."

"No, he has not. Nor has he improved, I assure you, without professional training. Something about Potter's mind has changed to keep the Dark Lord out."

"Have you any idea what that may be?"

"I do not. If I could investigate his mental state, I may be able to determine something, but it would be nothing more than what you might find if you looked him over yourself."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, resting his chin lightly on their tips. "Harry has not been seeing into Voldemort's mind, of late. Nor has he been bothered by dreams or pain."

Sitting back, Severus suggested, "Perhaps it would be best to bring Potter back to Hogwarts early. It would give some time for you and Madame Pofrey to examen him without the distraction of friends and classes."

"An excellent idea, Severus. But I have things to see to here over the next couple days. As much as I hate to put it off, it will have to wait."

Forcing a look of annoyance, Severus answered, "I could fetch...the boy."

Dumbledore surveys him thoughtfully. "Sooner would be better than later. As long as it is no trouble to you."

"None at all. I'm as eager to understand this phenominon as you are."

"I wouldn't ask you to go if I could leave my work."

"It is understandable. I'm suppose to be meeting with Draco and Narcissa. I'll go for him first thing after dinner."

A dark thoughtfulness filled the old man's eyes. "And how is Draco?"

"Strained. As are we all. You needn't worry about him."

Dumbledore smiled. "With you to guide him, however discreetly, I do not worry about him. I merely wonder how long before Voldemort will force him to make a choice he's not ready to make."

"I assure you, I will not let that happen."

Dumbledore smiled wearily. "I do not doubt you." He looked at Severus thoughtfully. "No. I trust you. If I can't trust you, my boy, I can't trust anyone."

"I'm glad our feelings are mutual. I should go, and let you sleep." Severus stood.

"I don't know if I'll sleep, but yes, you go ahead."

"Good night, Albus."

"Bring Harry up to see me when you arrive. I'm sure he'll be eager for an explaination."

Severus nodded, then left. He walked down the spiral staircase and wandered the familiar path to his classroom. His mind was still spinning at Voldemort's plan. Now that it was all laid out in front of him, it made perfect sense. But there was so much that could go wrong, and that weight would fall, in full, on Severus's own shoulders.

I trust my Lord, he told himself. And now I need to put part two of the plan into action.

Without hesitating, Severus went to his storeroom. He chose his ingredients much more carefully this time than the last, selecting only whole beetle wings--no cracked or chipped ones--and only unicorn hairs that were exactly twelve inches long. This potion had to be brewed perfectly, or all would be in vain.

* * *

"Harry! Duck!"

Harry did duck, but not in time. A large, heavy, grey object collided with the side of his head, knocking his glasses askew and sending him toppling to the ground.

"Bloody owl," Ron muttered, stalking across the lawn and picking Errol up from where he'd landed after flying into Harry.

Still sitting on the ground, Harry rubbed the side of his head. One of the things he liked about spending his summer with the Weasleys was that everything that happened was very ordinary, though in extraordinary ways. Such as getting hit on the head with a post owl. If he was at the Dursleys', he'd still being getting hit with post; it would just be in the form of a rolled up newspaper.

"Hogwarts letters, Harry. Got yours."

"Great!" He climbed to his feet. "We should go to Diagon Alley this weekend for our books and things. I need new robes anyway," he added, taking his letter from Ron and scanning the book list.

"I'll talk to Mum. Don't know what they're doing for security with you..."

"Me neither. All _I_ know is I don't have to report every bathroom trip. At least not yet."

"Give it time, mate."

Harry made a noncommental sound in his throat, then stuffed the letter in his pocket and started for the house. "Whatever happens, we should owl Hermione and see if she'll meet us there."

"Yeah." Ron stepped ahead of Harry and opened the door. "I mean, wouldn't it be great--"

Harry ran right into Ron, who'd stopped dead at his first step into the kitchen.

"Ron, what are you--" Harry's voice died as he peered over his friend's shoulder. There, sitting at the kitchen table, Molly pouring him a cup of tea, was Severus Snape.

"Oh, here they are. I was just about to come out and get you. Professor Snape is here to speak with Harry."

Ron grinned and slipped out of the room with a final, farewell pat on Harry's back.

Stepping cautiously, Harry walked towards Snape, stopping several feet away from the table.

"Sugar?"

"Just milk," Snape said in a low tone. He turned cold, penetrating eyes on Harry.

That look always made Harry's gut turn with something like nervousness...and supressed familiarity.

"Don't hover. Take a seat."

Sitting down heavily, Harry continued to look at Snape. "So, what is it?"

"Professor Dumbledore has sent me to collect you. He wants you to return to the school immediately."

"Is this about the Order?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "A little discression wouldn't hurt you."

Harry glared. "Well, is it?"

"Manners, Potter."

Harry glowered for a moment. "Is it, sir?"

Snape's eye glinted with annoyance, but he said, "Not strictly speaking. But it does involve the Dark Lord. We really shouldn't talk about this here."

After a second, Harry nodded and stood up. "I'll just tell Ron where I'm off to."

"Bring your school things as well."

After looking at Snape fora moment, Harry jogged up the stairs. He didn't like the idea of losing the last two weeks of his summer vacation, especially when he'd just arrived at The Burrow four days ago, but the thought that Dumbledore was finally going to let him in on some Order information won over his disapointment.

Harry pushed open the bedroom door on the very top level to find Ron lying on his bed, reading a wizarding music magazine with a moving picture of three witches with crazy-looking hair and mismatched muggle clothes. "Snape's here to bring me to see Dumbledore."

"Is it about V-V-Voldemort?"

Taking his jeans off the back of Ron's desk chair, Harry nodded. "He won't say anything else. I don't know how long I'll be at Hogwarts, but I'll owl you as soon as I talk to Dumbledore."

Ron looked a bit disappointed, but nodded. "All right. I'll owl Hermione about Diagon Alley after I hear from you, so don't wait too long."

Harry closed his trunk and latched it. "I won't. Give me a hand with this."

Closing his magazine and dropping it on his bed, Ron stood up and took one end of the heavy trunk. They made their way down the stairs, dodging Ginny on the second floor landing, and into the kitchen.

Snape stood up when he saw Harry and Ron. "Thank you for the tea, Molly."

"You're welcome." Mrs. Weasley smiled at Harry then pulled him into a tight hug. "You be good. And have a good year if I don't see you before term starts."

"I will. Thank you."

Turning to Harry, Snape said, "We'll be Apparating. Dumbledore has told me you've done it before."

"Yes, sir. Side-along."

"Good." Snape led Harry outside and down the garden path. They walked up into the orchard in silence. When he stopped, Harry nearly ran into the back of him. "When we get to the castle, we are going to go straight to the headmaster's office. Do not dawdle. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded.

Snape offered his arm. "Take hold and don't let go. Don't forget to hold your trunk."

Feeling emencely akward, Harry spent several seconds trying to figure out exactly how to hold Severus Snape's arm without feeling like he was hugging him.

He rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Potter." With a slight snort of annoyance, Snape took a handful of the back of Harry's shirt.

Without warning, Harry found himself being squeezed through space once again. It had been bad enough when he was expecting it, but off his guard! Within seconds, they landed just outside the gate that surrounded Hogwarts.

"You could have warned me!"

"If we're knit-picking," Snape muttered. He walked up to the gate and tapped the chain that held the doors securely closed. "You remember what I said, Potter? Straight to the office. Not a word or a detore." Flicking his wand at Harry's trunk, he levitated it along behind them.

There was an edge in Snape's voice that made Harry nervous. "Professor, why am I being brough back?"

"Professor Dumbledore will explain everything to you," Snape hissed. "Stay close to me. Don't want you tripping, do we?"

"Can't you light your wand, or something? I can't see where I'm--Ah!" Harry stepped into a pothole in the sloping lawn and stumbled forward. He expected to be tasting grass and blood, but instead, he felt a strong hand gripping his upper arm.

"Potter, what don't you understand about this situation? It is nighttime and we have no wand light. Don't you think, for a moment, that we might be trying not to draw attention to ourselves?"

"Makes sense," Harry mumbled, rubbing his arm where Snape's grip had bitten into it.

"Then shut up."

Stalking quietly through the damp grass, Snape led Harry to the front of the castle. Once the main door was opened, they stepped into the dimly lit entryway. It was ghostly quiet. Harry shivered.

"We're a bit early," Snape muttered as they walked towards the large, stone gargoyle. He set Harry's trunk down on the flagged stone. "You'll bring that to your room later."

"Yes, sir."

"Tongue-Twisting Taffy."

The gargolye moved to the side and Harry started up the stairs, Snape directly behind him, wand still out. When they reached the top landing, Harry stepped forward and knocked on the door.

Several seconds passed before the door opened. Walking into the room, Harry was mildly surprised to see green, Floo flames dying out in the fireplace.

"Good evening, Harry."

"Good evening, Professor."

Snape walked around Harry and stood by the hearth, his dark eyes peering out at the room, watchful and wary. He resembled what Harry imagined patroling demetors must look like by the Azkaban gate.

"Please, Harry, sit." When the boy was seated, Dumbledore asked, "How is your scar?"

"Fine. I mean, it doesn't hurt, or anything. Why?"

"It seems your ease with your scar has not been due to Occlumency on Voldemort's part. Apparently, he has, indeed, been trying to use the connection between the two of you."

"Why haven't I felt anything?"

Here, Dumbledore looked at Snape.

"From what I have been able to gather," Snape started slowly, the firelight making his pale skin glow with a sick, yellow light, "there is something in your mind that is blocking his attempts to reach you. He described it like a forest, or a wall of thick haze that has been growing thicker and thicker."

"Am I doing Occlumency?"

"Don't be rediculous," Snape sneered.

Speaking above the rest of Snape's response, Dumbledore explained kindly, "That would be almost as rare as your surviving the Killing Curse. Occlumency takes strict training and personal discipline. One does not accidently perform it."

"Oh. So, what is it?"

"That is why we have brought you here. To try and figure out the riddle."

Harry nodded grimly. He was starting to get annoyed with himself for doing things that normal people weren't suppose to be able to do. It was getting very troublesome.

With a sigh, Dubledore stood. "And now that you know why you are here, why don't we go and have something to eat? It's too late to try and make any progress with this tonight. And then I'm sure you have an owl you want to send to Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Harry said, standing as well.

"Do you care to join us, Severus?"

"I ate not long ago. And I have work to do. But I will see you at breakfast."

"Good night, Severus."

"Good night."

* * *

Severus stopped in the doorway to the Great Hall. All the way at the far end of the Gryffindor table sat Harry, his head resting on his folded arms. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he started down the aisle between the tables. "A bit early for your usual, isn't it?" he asked coldly.

Harry's eyes rolled up to look at Severus, but his head stayed firmly on his arms. "Professor Dumbledore wanted to have breakfast together."

Just as Severus was about to comment, Dumbledore walked into the large room. "Ah, good. You are both up."

Harry sat up. "Good morning, Professor."

"Good morning. And now that we're slightly more awake, let's have some breakfast before we move on to more serious discussions." Dumbledore sat at the table across from Harry.

Making a show of reluctance, Severus sat down several feet down the bench from Harry.

"Eggs, I think. And bacon. Orange juice."

Harry watched Dumbledore ordering his breakfast from the table, then followed suit. "Just cereal. With milk. And toast."

"Tea, black. Toast, ham, and two eggs," Severus said as Dumbledore's and then Harry's dishes began to appear. When his own order came up, he took his fork and began to pick at his eggs. He peered down the table out of the corner of his eye. He had no vantage point to slip the potion into Harry's food.

"No milk, Severus?"

Severus looked blearily at his meal before realizing what Dumbledore was referring to. "Not this early," he answered. Severus finished the rest of his breakfast in silence, listening with only half his attention as Harry and Dumbledore talked about Quidditch, classes, and summer holiday activities.

When all the dishes had been cleared, Dumbledore said, "Now, let's discuss how we are going to go about discovering the secret of your sudden immunity to Voldemort."

Folding his hands, Severus said, "I stayed up to do some reading. Obviously, there are no identical cases, but there are several similar ones in which people who once shareed mental connections were suddenly blocked by from having visions by fog or smoke. There was also a case of twin who shared a free-flowing psychic bond that was severed when one of then began to hear only static from the other."

"So my scar is broken? I mean, the connection--"

"Not broken," Severus explained. "Blocked."

"What's the difference?"

"There is still potential for the connection to be reestablished."

Harry sighed and slumped a little.

"Were any of the cases solved? Or reversed?"

"The one with the twins was reversed, but it took both of them studying Occlumency. Which leads me to believe that using Occlumency would be advantageous in trying to--"

"Again?"

"Harry."

"It didn't do anything last time but give me headaches. I'm feeling better. Who cares why?"

Severus sneered.

Dumbledore explained, "Our first concern is that this may be caused by some damage to your mind itself. If this is a building condition, it would be best if we discovered it and tried to cure it as soon as possible."

Harry sat in silence for several seconds before nodding his agreement.

"Back to Occlumency," Severus resumed. "We will be using Occlumency to explore exactly what the Dark Lord is finding when he tries to access you. Those sessions will begin with me this evening."

"With you?" Harry groaned.

"Manners, Potter."

Harry glared at the floor.

"It is imperative that you work with Professor Snape," Dumbledore soothed. "I will not be available as much as he will. I will, of course, participate when it is practical for me to do so."

Sighing, Harry looked back at the two professors. "What if this opens my mind more so Voldemort can get to me again?"

"Then we will know that it is not caused by physical or psychological damage," Severus answered evenly. He stood up. "I have a potion that needs tending in five minutes, so I should be going. Be in my office at seven, Potter. No excuses."

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, a scowl on his face.

Severus strode out of the Great Hall and towards the dungeon stairs. He was fairly pleased. Everything seemed to be going well, except for Harry not having taken the potion yet. But that would be rectified that evening. Now all he had to do was keep Dumbledore from inspecting Harry's mind himself. If he did that, not only would Dumbledore not find a cloud or forest of smoke, but he'd also realize that the boy's mind, while helplessly inept, was in fully-functional, undamaged order. And that would ruin the Dark Lord's entire plan.

* * *

Dread swelling in his chest, Harry trudged down the long hall to Snape's office. Here he was. Back in Occlumency. With Snape. Worst of all was, the man would be purposely poking around his mind, trying to break into it, and he, Harry, wasn't suppose to try and put up a defense. He sighed.

When Harry got the door, he knocked firmly, determined to get through this first night.

"Enter." Snape was just emmerging from his private store cupboard at the back of the room, two small bottles in hand. "I see your punctuality has improved, if nothing else." He glared down at Harry for a moment before setting the bottles on his desk. "Sit down, Potter. I want to go over how this first session will work."

Harry sat across from Snape, eyeing the bottles.

"Headache potions, Potter. I dare say you'll need at least one before you leave here tonight."

Great, he thought.

"Until we discover the true root of your problem, all of my entrances to your mind will be exploritory. Just a little browsing to see what I can see." Snape picked his wand up. "Just relax. Think about whatever you want."

Harry suppressed an indignant snort. He's pointing his wand at me and he wants me to relax. Brilliant.

"_Legilimens_."

Harry braced for the heavy feeling of having his mind ripped into, but it never came. He waited. Nothing.

"Well, Potter, this is very interesting."

Harry looked up at Snape's bemused tone. "You--you couldn't get in?"

Snape shook his head slowly, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "Not a bit. I'm going to try again. _Legilimens_." Twice more, Snape tried, and twice more, he was unsuccessful. "Once more should do it. I'm going to try and dig a bit deeper this time. _Legilimens_."

For several seconds, Harry was sure Snape had failed yet again. However, just as he was about to comment so, a sharp, burning pain tore into his skull. A scream of agony was ripped out of his throat before he could bother trying to suppress it. The sharp pain died away, leaving a heavy throbbing behind. He clutched his arms around his head. Blood pounded in his ears and there was a loud rushing noise that made him certain he was bleeding out at the head in gushing bursts. It took several seconds for the throbbing to subside to the point that he could hear Snape talking to him.

"Easy, Potter. Deep breaths. You're not breathing," he admonished coldly.

Suddenly realizing that he was, indeed, holding his breath, Harry let it out in a gasp. His chest heaved several times, his arms still curled around his head. When he finally found his voice, it was shaky and weak-sounding. "What did you do?"

"I tried to penetrate the fog in your mind. I managed. A little." A cork popped. "Drink this. It will make the pain go away."

Peering out from under his forearm, Harry reached for the offered potion. Gulping it down, he was relieved to feel most of his pain melt away instantly. All that was left was a heavy, clouded feeling around his brain, but it wasn't unbarable. "Did you see anything?"

There was a troubled light in Snape's eyes. "Do you have any repressed memories, Potter?"

"What?"

"Any parts of your life you pushed aside? Memories you do not recall becuase they're unpleasent to you?"

"How should I know if I have memories I don't remember?" Harry snapped, the rushing still pounding in his ears slightly.

"Manners," he warned. He studied Harry. "Your mind shows distinct evidence of magical damage. But it seems to be undoing itself. That is why the haze has been brought to the forefront. Your mind is trying to cycle through thoughts it has been storing and not processing."

"So someone obliviated my memories?"

"It doesn't look that way. It looks, oddly enough, as if you've done it to yourself."

"How can someone obliviate their own memories?"

"It's not unheard of. Mostly it happens to particularly..._gifted_ children who have not yet learned to control their abilities."

"Will I remember them?"

"Eventually, yes. And that is when those clouds will be cleared from your mind. You are familiar with the Pencieve," Snpae said with a sneer. "I trust you have seen what thought looks like?"

Looking down sheepishly, Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"That is what you have in your head. An overabundance of thick, unfiled thought."

"So when it's cleared out, will I remember everything?"

"Most likely."

"Will my connection with Voldemort be reestablished?"

"I don't know. It may." Snape still looked troubled. "Have you been having any flashes of unfamiliar memories?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Nightmares? Strange dreams?"

"I've been getting my best sleep since third year."

"Be warned, Potter. That will change as you remember the items that are in that band of thought."

Harry started. "More things about Voldemort?"

Slowly, Snape said, "I didn't see anything about the Dark Lord. I didn't see much, actually. Just some flashes of a park and a man."

Licking his lips nervously, Harry asked, "How long do you think it'll take for my mind to process everything?"

"With coaxing, not too long."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Coaxing? As in, you going in and tearing things up like you just did?"

"After a fashion."

"Great." Harry dropped his head onto the desk, appreciating the cool wooden surface on his burning forehead. "There's no potion, or medicine to help this instead?"

"The potions used to reverse memory modification and mind damage only loosen the thoughts so the mind can work through them on its own. In essence, your mind is acting as if it has alreqady been given the medication. It just has to be left to do its job."

Harry sighed.

"That's enough for tonight." Snape held out the second potion to Harry. "Drink this before you go. All of it. It should get rid of the rest of the pain."

Harry swallowed the potion, coughing a little. It definitely wasn't the same thing that had been in the other bottle. It had a different taste...but it worked amazingly. His every ache, even things not related to the Legilimency, disappeared suddenly.

"Off to bed, Potter. It's late, and that potion will make you drowsy in a few minutes."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will want to see you in the morning, once I have given him my report on our session."

Standing up, Harry nodded slightly. He walked to the door with the slightest feeling that everything in the world must be perfect at that very moment. By the time he was pulling off his shirt and digging in his drawers for pajamas, Harry couldn't tell if he was still awake or not. To save from having to decide, he lied down on his bed, still half-dressed.

"If I'm not sleeping, I should be," he murmured, closing his eyes. "And if I am, well then, I'll just dream that I'm going to bed..."

* * *

"He drank it, my Lord."

"Very good, Severus. Now, we wait patiently. And when he starts havign his nightmares, you will be there to carefully lead him towards his destiny."

Severus looked at Voldemort for a minute, then walked over to the window. "I still wonder if Potter can be pursuaded--"

"A person's mind can convince them to do anything. Once those spores begin to take effect, he will be reduced to his most primary learning. And that, thanks to Mr. Williams, is to take advantages and use situations for his own gain. We just have to put him in a position to realize that it is his gain to follow paths you will set before him."

His lips curved in a smirk, Severus turned back to face Voldemort. "There's a long way to go before he'll trust me."

"He doesn't have to trust you. He just needs to realize that you are the only person who can help him get what he wants. What he craves. And that is revenge."

"He doesn't crave revenge."

"He will. before long, he will. Ingested demetor spores have a way of making people realize their darker emotions." Voldemort stared at Severus as if he was seeing someone else through him. "Mixed with that euphoria potion, those spores will have Harry living his worst memories in a state of lost, dreaminess that he will be unable to escape."

Severus smirked. "And Dumbledore will be no help."

Voldemort's smile grew, a malicious fire burning in the reds of his eyes. "While poor Harry Potter is suffering the worst pains of his life, Dumbledore, his great _protector_, will be standing aside, doing nothing, telling him it's normal, and that he just has to deal with it. What an exquisit betrayal."

Slowly, Severus said, "Yes, my Lord. But that is another point. I doubt Dumbledore will just stand around for long. He'll want to take his own look if Potter's symptoms get too severe."

"Dumbledore won't be in the castle, Severus," Voldemort replied as if speaking to a stupid child. "He will be away, playing the Guardian of the World, on information you will pass to him."

"I will pass to him whatever information you command of me," Severus answered. He was starting to realize that Voldemort hadn't really told him anythign solid about the plan after all, and the direction it was suppose to take, exactly, was elluding Severus' powers of deduction. It was maddening.

* * *

Harry scowled as he trudged down the stairs the next morning. He'd been in bed until well passed nine o' clock, but felt no more rested than he had when he'd lied down in the first place. Shapeless figures and haunting voices had plagued his dreams. Even now, in the brightness of the mid-morning light, a heaviness of dread was settled in Harry's stomach.

Harry walked through the wide doorway into the Great Hall and sat down at the nearest end of the Gryffindor table. He placed his breakfast order, then started to eat slowly.

"Finally awake, are you?"

Harry looked up as Snape entered.

Narrowing his eyes, he snapped, "What's the matter with you?"

Harry looked back at his food. "I didn't sleep well."

"The bad dreams are beginning? That is, of course, natural."

"Of course."

Snape glared at him. "Do not interupt me."

Harry's scowl deepened.

"As I was saying, that is to be expected. The dreams will continue and they will get worse."

Was it Harry's imagination, or did Snape sound the slightest bit pleased? "How long will it last?"

"It depends, really. You have quite the thick haze to work through."

Looking away from Snape, Harry glared at the floor, his eyes fixed on a patch of cobweb in the corner by the door.

After several moments of silence, Snape said, "At any rate, I have come to tell you that Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office." Wth a final, appraising look in Harry's direction, he left the room.

Harry sighed. He was really starting to hate Dubledore's office.

When he'd finished eating, Harry made his way down the hall to the stone gargoyle. As he entered the office, he saw Dumbledore standing by the window, looking out over the still grounds. "Professor Snape said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes. He and I discussed your condition this morning."

Harry scowled slightly. They made it sound like he was diseased.

"As much as I regret that you'll have to go through these painful times, I am pleased that it is not something more serious. Severus has assured me that it should clear up before the start of term."

"So, do I get to go back to the Weasleys'?"

Dumbledore's eyes darkened. "I do not think it's wise. These next few days will be very trying, and I think the quiet will be best."

"Yes, sir." When several moments passed without word, Harry asked, "Was that all you wanted to tell me?"

"Not entirely. It seems I will have to be away for the next couple weeks. It came up very suddenly."

Horror struck, Harry clenched his fist. He'd be stuck going through these "painful times" with no one but _Snape_? "Professor--"

Dumbledore looked at Harry with imploring, yet firm, eyes. "Harry, Severus has agreed to be civil, and I will ask the same of you."

"What about Professor McGonagall, or someone else? Doesn't Hagrid stay here through the summer?"

"Neither Hagrid nor Professor McGonagall are skilled at Legilimency. You need someone who can check your progress and make sure things are moving in the proper direction. Under that definition, Professor Snape is the only one who could do the job."

No wonder he looked so annoyed when he came to get me. Harry's scowl deepened. This was going to be the worst two weeks of his life. "What if Snape went and took care of whatever it is you're going off to do?" he pleaded, feeling slightly desperate.

Shaking his head gravely, Dumbledore answered, "I will trust this task to no one but myself. It is too...important."

Yeah. But you'll shuffle me off to him pretty easily, won't you? Harry thought.

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore said, "Harry, I trust Severus, and I trust you."

Harry sighed. "I only have to see him in the evenings?"

Dumbledore sighed, too. "This is a very big castle. I am sure you, and Professor Snape, will have plenty of places far enough away from each other to satisefy both of yours needs."

Harry felt a little childish, but he also felt justified.

* * *

And we reach our first break in the action. Quick outline:

Before he leaves, Dumbledore checks Harry's mind for himself and does see a cloud (induced by the dementor spores). With no reason to distrust Snape, he heads off. (He is going to hunt down the first horcrux, which Snape gave him what was suppose to be misleading directions to, on Voldie's orders, of course.)  
A few days pass and the slow-acting potion is reaching its peek. Harry's been having progressively worsen nightmares about his childhood. For the most part, they are true-to-life, but with the terrible dementor spore twist. He spends all his time wandering the empty halls of Hogwarts in a hellish haze of a memories. The euphoria potions acts with the dementor spores to create a feelign of unreal reality in which Harry is forced to constantly remind himself that all the horrible things he's reliving are just thoughts.  
Unable to sleep one night, he tries to steal a sleeping potion from Snape. Snape, who has been expecting this for several days, is slightly imressed at harry's ability to fight off the nightmares without a potion for so long. However, it is not his job to be impressed. It is his job to torment the boy into near insanity. So, when he catches Harry with his hand in the potion store, he does not make things easier. And thus our story continues:

* * *

"Sit. Why are you trying to steal potions from my office, Potter?"

Harry glared at the floor as he lowered himself into the hard, wooden chair beside Severus's desk. He didn't reply.

"Answer me," he ordered.

"I need it to sleep. The dreams are getting worse."

"What are you seeing? Surely not the Dark Lord, or you'd be talking to Professor Dumbledore, not sneaking around my office."

"Memories. Things I haven't thought of in..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly. "Why am I remembering this now?"

Severus studied Harry for several, long seconds. "Perhaps it is your mind trying to tell you something."

"Like what?" His eyes were haunted.

Severus peered at Harry calculatingly. "I knew someone who believed that the mind deals with information in bite-sized chunks. One remembers or recalls things as he is prepared to deal with them. Maybe your shallow mind has just gained a bit of depth and is prepared for something it wasn't before."

"I'm not prepared to deal with this. Not again."

Though Harry was obviously speaking to himself, Severus answered, "Only life itself knows what you are prepared for."

Harry looked up sharply, his eyes wide. He stared at the man as if he were seeing a ghost.

"What?"

"You just-- Nothing. I should go." He stood but did not move towards the door. His eyes were trained longingly on the potion in Severus's hand.

Severus slipped the small bottle into his own robe pocket. "Deal with your demons, Potter. That's the only way they'll leave you. Now go."

Sighing dejectedly, Harry walked to the door.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

Harry looked back at Severus.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for being in my office without permission. And forty more for trying to steal from my personal store."

Glaring, Harry jerked the door open and trudged up the hall.

* * *

And we are at the second break.

The next day, Harry has his "session" with Snape. Snae, in an effort to torment Harry more, purposely seeks the more painful memories that he knows Harry has buried in his mind. Of course, he makes a point to taunt him...

* * *

An amused smirk twisted Severus's lips. "Did you spend a lot of time cowering behind dumpsters and whining?"

"Did _you_ spend a lot of time cowering in corners and crying?" Harry snarled in reply.

Though the smirk left his face, inside Severus was overjoyed at the boy. There's that anger again. I knew I'd find it, he thought. "My own domestic past is not an issue in this conversation," he answered coldly, glaring at Harry.

* * *

And here we reach the longest break in our story.

Several days pass and the potion reaches its climax. Snape meets with Voldie and tells him that the potions effects will begin to wear off within the next couple days. Voldie doesn't seem to mind, and simply asks Snape where the Dursleys live. Confused, but compliant, Snape, who knows from his trip back in time, tells him.  
Snape goes back to the school. The next day, Snape is meeting with Harry when an alert comes to him from the Order. Voldemort has somehow discovered where the Dursleys live and is in the middle of an attack on the family, obviously looking for Harry...  
Short on members (as Dumbledore is gone, Remus is busy, and McGonagall is working on other things elsewhere), Snape has no choice but to go. He does let slip to Harry what's happening, and the dire situation they must be in with only a couple Order members to answer the call to help. Harry's hero complex kicks in and he insists on going.  
Snape puts up a token fuss, then gives in for the sake of getting the scene quickly. They arrive at Privet Drive via Apparation to find the Dursley's house in a shambles, Death Eaters, Order members, and Aurors crawling the grounds.  
There is a breif moment where Tonks looks at Snape like he's insane for having brought Harry, bu the fighting is too out of control for her to comment. While Snape makes his way carefully through the fray, remaining unscathed as neither side is attackign him because both sides think he is fighting for them, Harry puts his DADA skills to use against the yucky Death Eaters. As he's fighting, he spots the Dursleys being tortured by a Death Eater. He petrifies the Death Eater, but stops as he's turning back to the battle. He is suddenly transfixed by the Dursleys and the overwhelming hell of memories he has been forced to endure over the passed week.  
Harry, unnoticed by all except Snape and Voldemort, raises his wand, seriously considering killing the Dursleys. His eyes are round and slightly crazed with the insanity that has been growing in him.  
In the moments while he is emotionlessly contemplating the terrified pleas of his relatives, Snape makes his way to Harry's side. "Life doesn't give second chances, Harry," he hisses. "You have to take what it gives you when it offers because the same opportunity never comes twice."  
Harry stares blankly at the Dursleys for several seconds. Across the lawn, there is a yell from Shacklebolt and then the loud noises of several people Disapperating: the Death Eaters, severly beaten, are retreating. Voldemort is among the last to leave.  
Tonks runs over and starts askign Harry if his family is all right. Shaken out of his daze, he just looks around, confused. He stares at Snape for a moment, then says everyoen seems to be fine. The Durselys are too petrified to say anything. they are taken to away by mediwizards as the Aurors set about righting everything and covering up for what happened.  
Snape takes harry back to Hogwarts, very annoyed that the boy didn't do what he was suppose to, and dreading the punishment he was sure to incure for lack of the plan's success.  
Later that night, Harry goes to Snape's office at the usual time, only to find the man working on a potion in his lab.

And this is where the story picks back up:

* * *

"Why did you tell me to do it?"

Snape stared at him, his dark eyes distant, lost in some thought which lingered far away from the quiet dungeon. Fnally, he said softly, "If anyone stood between me and my chance to kill my father, they would die."

Harry was quiet for a moment. "Is he dead?"

Without responding, Snape walked over to the cauldron on the work table and began prodding its thickening contents.

"I--I couldn't do it. I hate them, but I couldn't. A...friend I had told me I could have everything I want, if I just take the right steps to get it."

Snape's slight movements stopped, but he didn't look up.

"I want to not be like Voldemort. I--" Harry swallowed thickly. "I could be, you know." His shaky voice sounded very near the edge of hysterics. "I almost was. But then I remembered Mr. Williams. That's what stopped me."

Smirking, Snape said, "I have always claimed to enjoy a heavy helping of irony."

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Potter."

"Are we still having a session tonight?"

"No. I have work to do."

"Tomorrow, then? I'm still having the memory flashes, but they're getting weaker."

Snape looked up. Harry was shocked to see the black depths of the man's eyes filled with some unfamiliar emotion. It wasn't malice, or hatred. It was something close to resignition. "Perhaps. Go to bed, Potter."

* * *

Snape finishes his potion and goes to see Voldemort, well aware of the fact that he's in major trouble.

* * *

Severus almost feared to speak, but Voldemort's silence was inviting him to open the conversation. Cautiously, he fell onto the facts of the situation. "The potion will be wearing off over the next couple days. Its effects are already weakening."

Voldemort didn't reply. He did not look at Severus. He merely hunched farther in his chair, long, slender fingers stroking his lips and cheeks in absent thought. His eyes were narrowed.

His tone tentative, Severus asked quietly, "Should I give him more, my Lord?"

Suddenly, Voldemort exploded, "Why didn't he do it? He had the perfect chance!"

Severus flinched. "I don't know, my Lord," he lied. He didn't want to imagine what would happen to him if he confessed that Mr'Williams, the "loving mentor" had given little Harry Potter the strength of character that he needed to escape the mental torture of the Dark Lord's best-laid plans. That little piece of information would go with him to his grave, if he could help it.

"I saw his eyes! He wanted to," Voldemort growled in confused rage.

"My Lord, perhaps--"

"You," he snarled. "You messed up the potion!" Voldemort rose from his seat, snatching his wand off the table at his side.

"My Lord--"

"_Crucio_!"

* * *

Dumbledore returns from his horcrux hunt ringless, but with a clearer idea of where to look for the real thing due to some lucky stumblings and chance meetings and conversations. He and Harry chat about what happened at Privet Drive, Dumbledore checks his mind and find it clear and in perfect working order, and Harry is sent back to the Weasleys for the remaining week of vacation with orders to relax and try to put the unpleasantness of the previous week out of his mind.

Snape, all the worse for the wear, meets up with Dumbledore. They chat:

* * *

"I hope this week has been time enough for you to see that Harry is, if not responsible, reliable, at least."

Severus peered at the corner by the hearth stone, his dark gaze glaring into the twilight brass of the fire poker set mounted on the brick.

Dumbledore sighed. "At any rate, I am glad to see you comparatively well. I am sorry I could not be here when I was needed."

"All is well."

"You were greatly jepordized," he protested guiltily.

"I was in no more danger than I usually am," Severus replied icily.

Dumbledore sighed. "This will soon be over, and a great many people who are in dangerous positions will be relieved."

Nodding, Severus stood stiffly, his aching muscles screaming. "We all look forward to that day. if you'll excuse me, I think I would like to lie down for a minute."

"Of course, Severus." The man's eyes, full of concern and caring, followed Severus to the door.

THE END

* * *

And so there you have it. The unfinished story. Once again, sorry, but the inspiration for it just dropped cold. But I didn't think it was fair to just not update after promising I would. 


End file.
